


all that still matters is love ever after

by NaomiLeyers



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Matchmaking, Mira Lives, Mira The Queen Of Nagron, Sort Of, and Mira The Queen of Other Ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:13:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26892736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaomiLeyers/pseuds/NaomiLeyers
Summary: 5 times Mira was fundamental in the getting together part of someone else’s relationship and once when the relationship was hers
Relationships: Agron/Nasir, Crixus/Naevia, Gannicus/Spartacus, Laeta/Sibyl, Melitta/Oenomaus, Mira/Saxa
Kudos: 44





	1. Melitta/Oenomaus

**Author's Note:**

> a birthday present for a certain someone, happy birthday <3 
> 
> as always, nothing belongs to me except plot if there is any, all characters belong to Steven deKnight and the starz, all mistakes are my own, the title is from Daughtry’s Life after you and I really hope this finds you all well <3

The first time it happens, she is 15 and she finds it more sweet than anything else.

She doesn’t think she is ever going to tell anyone that she found domina’s body slave sitting on the balcony, with her knees pressed to her chest and staring at the gladiators training down below. She also doesn’t think she is ever going to tell them Melitta looked up at her with a soft, tired smile that made her knees a lot weaker than any man except one ever managed.

“Does Lucretia need anything?” she asks, and right, it happens years before Varus and before Illythia and before everything had the chance to go to hell and Melitta was _Lucretia’s_ , the way no one else ever managed and they once used to be almost, almost friends.

“Not that I know of,” Mira answers and Melitta motions for her to sit next to her.

“Good,” she says and Mira leans against the wall and follows her gaze, to the yard where Oenomaus and Barca are training. 

“You are in love with him,” she whispers, surprised, and Melitta looks at her, sharp but still gentle.

“Nonsense,” she says. “I was admiring his fighting technique.”

“Of course. The fighting technique is really handsome and really brave,” Mira answers, with all the carelessness of a teen girl and Melitta sighs and turns to face her and her eyes are serious and she isn't smiling anymore.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “He possibly doesn’t even know I exist and even if he did and somehow liked me too, we would still need Titus to agree and-“ she sighs. “I’d rather not get my hopes up for nothing. It is not worth it.”

Mira doesn’t say anything to that; but that doesn’t stop her from contemplating.

*

Later that night she sneaks into the ludus. (She only feels a little like she is crazy, but she is young, and it will take years, before the ludus becomes a dangerous place, before she will have to look at people getting broken or worse there.)

Oenomaus blinks up at her, confused, when she appears in front of his cell. He is still a Champion, with no one to challenge him yet - it will take months for Gannicus to show up and years for Theokoles to ruin the things in ludus for the first time.

“Mira, is it right?” he says, his voice deep and soft at the same time and she doesn’t even bother to ask how it is possible that he knows her name – he and Melitta are both like that. “Is there a problem? How can I help you?”

She smiles at him, bright.

“I think _I_ can help _you_ ,” she answers.

“Really,” Oenomaus says, unimpressed.

“Really. What if I told you there is a beautiful and kind woman ridiculously in love with you?”

He stares at her, his eyes wide and she thinks she understands why Melitta, who isn’t really intrigued by the gladiators the way most women are, fell for him out of everyone.

“Look, not that I don’t appreciate your interest, but you are way, _way_ , too young and even if you weren’t-“

“I meant Melitta,” she says quickly, before this can get even more embarrassing and at that his entire face lights up and – good. She thought it would.

“Are you serious?” he asks her.

She smiles at him.

“Absolutely. You really should do something about it, because if you don’t, I think you are both going to be unhappy.”

She walks away before he can answer.

*

When, a few weeks later, she finds the two of them making out in the wine cellar, she only smiles – and when another few months later Titus Batiatus announces their wedding, she thinks she might be the only person in the villa who isn't surprised by it at all.

(She is happy for them, she really is. And if she thinks _I hope someone will look at me that way one day too_ , well, who is there to stop her from wanting it?)


	2. Crixus/Naevia

The second time it happens, years have passed, ludus is no longer a safe place, Mira has seen more pain than she ever wanted to in her entire life and Naevia is plenty of things but definitely not Lucretia’s best friend.

“Are you alright?” she asks softly, when she notices the body slave standing in the cellar and staring at the bars separating the ludus from the villa. (She remembers there used to be no bars, back when Titus Batiatus lived and commanded the place and trusted his men.)

“Of course I am,” Naevia answers immediately. She doesn’t stop staring at the gate wishfully.

“Will you tell me what is wrong?” Mira asks and Naevia sighs and finally looks at her.

“Can you keep a secret?” she asks instead of answering and Mira thinks she should say no, she doesn’t really need any more complications in her life, but Naevia is her friend, or the closest thing someone like her can have and so she nods.

Naevia grabs her hand and pulls her into a nearest dark corner of the room.

“I think I am seeing someone,” she whispers.

Mira just stares at her.

“You _think_ you are seeing someone,” she repeats and Naevia blushes.

“We talked, some. And we kissed,” she laughs, bitter and happy at the same time. “He’s bought me a necklace.”

“That’s sweet,” Mira answers and she means it. It is sweet. Possibly stupid, given that they are not allowed to own things but sweet anyway. “He seems to care for you. Maybe you should keep him. If he is relevant enough, domina surely won’t mind it if the two of you-“

“It’s Crixus,” Naevia says.

“Fuck.”

It makes Naevia smirk, but her eyes remain worried.

“Yes. I believe that sums it up.”

“Maybe – I mean, if he spoke to dominus about you, you could find a way to work it out without involving domina in it. After all, it did work for Melitta and Oenomaus.”

Naevia closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, there are tears pooling in them.

“Really? It worked? Because the way I remember it, Melitta is dead and Oenomaus is heartbroken and if it isn't enough, I don’t remember domina to ever have a _thing_ for Oenomaus.”

Mira pulls her into a gentle hug and the other woman melts into her touch. There isn't much more she can do, she thinks; Naevia is right and a wise person would stay away from Crixus under any and all circumstances, because Lucretia has come to be plenty of things but never merciful or forgiving.

“Does it matter?” she finds herself saying anyway and Naevia blinks up at her, confused.

“Haven't you listened? If domina finds out Crixus and I-“ she blushes. “-ehm, are involved… I can't even begin to image what is she going to do.”

Mira smiles at her, tired.

“I know and I won't tell you go for it. But- if you love him and he loves you, won't it all be worth it?”

Naevia looks contemplating and a little less lost when Mira leaves in that cellar.

*

She doesn’t know what sort of decision the other woman made until she is standing in the middle of the feast prepared for Gaius Claudius Glaber and Ashur lets his hands slide down Naevia's arms, to her hips and Crixus goes pale and Mira has only time to think _oh no, you idiot, stop it_ (not that she is too sure who she is thinking about) before both men are on the ground and all hell breaks loose.

*

It takes them weeks to finally find Naevia, after they escape the ludus. In the meantime, Mira has seen too many good people die and she has killed her fair share of less good ones.

“You were right after all,” Mira tells her eventually, when she finds the courage to finally talk to her again. “It was a mistake.”

Naevia looks up at her from the stairs she is sitting on and she sighs.

“I never stopped loving him and I made that choice knowing much better than you what the consequences might be, so stop it.”

“He almost tore Italia apart to find you,” Mira admits. “And he wasn’t the only one. We all-“

“I cannot stand his touch,” Naevia say suddenly, interrupting her and the way she says it, angry and heartbroken and _empty_ at the same time, sort of scares Mira more than Lucretia ever could. “After all that happened, I cannot fucking stand his touch and I can't-“ he voice breaks on the last word and she breaks out crying and Mira stops pretending that she is able to keep anything from her dignity and she pulls her into a hug and Naevia _relaxes_ into her, and right, she was never exactly touchy-feely and if she cannot even let her lover touch her now, then she must be more touch starved than Mira and Mira is plenty touch starved.

“He loves you,” Mira says eventually, when Naevia stop crying. “And I don’t really think he cares whether or not you share the bed. Don’t you think he has had enough of that with Lucretia? I have no idea what will happen. I have no idea if Spartacus manages to find a way to get us out of here or if we survive it, but I _know_ you both have the rest of your lives to figure things out. But you won’t figure them out if he is out there trying to maim _our_ fighters and if you are hiding here.”

Naevia snorts at that.

“Trying being the key word here, I hope.”

“I wouldn’t know, but we are lucky he isn't the only frustrated champion of the Arena that we have here or else he really would murder someone. And stop trying to change the topic, it won’t help.”

“Very well,” Naevia answers, one corner of her mouth lifted slightly. “In that case I suppose I should go find him presently.”

“Not to sleep with him, I hope,” Mira answers and Naevia only winces a little.

“No, of course not. Just… to talk. I am not ready to give up yet and… well. From what you said, he isn't ready to give up just now either. So I might as well give talking a try.”

“Tread carefully,” Mira tells him, almost smirking. “Talking about emotions is a new trend around here. The usual approach tends to involve violence of some sort.”

Naevia punches her lightly into arm, proving her point perfectly.

She watches the other woman walk away and she cannot help feeling a little bit hurt; she loves Naevia, truly does and she certainly wants her to be happy. But she cannot escape an annoying traitorous voice saying _you deserve someone willing to tear countries apart for you, too_ and the truth is, as much as she wishes it wasn’t, that Spartacus certainly isn't ever going to do just that.

(When later she talks to him and tells him she will not be his painkiller anymore, he doesn’t seem to be too heartbroken about it. And somehow, she realizes with a shock, _she_ doesn’t feel _too_ heartbroken about it, either. They certainly feel closer as friends than they ever did as lovers.)

“You are good at it,” Crixus tells her the following morning and she notices he looks a lot happier than he did the previous days. “I mean. At making people realize things.”

“No, you are horrible at anything connected to emotions, that’s hardly the same,” she answers, smirking, and somehow she feels _lighter_ than she has in years.


	3. Agron/Nasir

The third time it happens, she is sitting at the temple’s small wall, watching Oenomaus train the Germans and purposely not staring at Saxa.

“Do you have a moment?” Agron asks her and she winces a little.

“Of course,” she answers, when she is sure her heart will not jump out of her chest.

He sits down next to her and says nothing for the longest of time.

“How do you make someone believe you care about them and you are not angry with them and you no longer want to die fighting presently?” he asks her eventually and he sounds sad and exhausted and she feels like she probably should worry about him but that can wait. (She also can’t help but wonder when exactly has _this_ become her life and really, these people should notice that she is single _and_ she is single because she couldn’t make Spartacus move over a _dead_ woman, so it’s not like she has a healthy, steady, _existing_ relationship which would make her competent in giving relationship advice.)

Still, he did ask her for help and so she sighs and turns her attention from Saxa to Agron.

“Have you tried telling Nasir?” she asks, smirking a little at the way he crosses his arms on his chest.

“Who was talking about Nasir?” he asks, defensively, as if _everyone_ didn’t know he is absolutely and madly in love with their resident Syrian.

“Apologies,” she comments dryly. “Have you tried telling the someone?”

Agron rolls his eyes at that.

“He thinks I am not interested in anything serious,” he says quietly. “Or better, he thinks I am still angry with him and that I don’t care about _him_ and that I just don’t want to die alone.”

Mira leans back on her elbows.

“Has he actually told you any of that?”

“He didn’t have to. We kissed when I returned from the arena but since then he wouldn’t even speak to me.”

Mira suddenly feels a strong need of wine.

“So you two haven’t really spoken to each other but you are sure that he _thinks_ you are angry and using him, because you haven’t had time to talk?”

“Or maybe he’s been avoiding me.” Agron answers, slightly annoyed.

“Or maybe you’ve been dealing with errands for Spartacus the entire week and we both know Spartacus can be wonderfully demanding when he wants to and Nasir has been really busy training and helping with organization of this place, given that he and Naevia are the only two people in here who are experienced in this area and Naevia hasn’t been too helpful in the last few days, not that we all don’t understand that.”

“But-“ Agron starts and Mira interrupts him before he can continue.

“Agron. Talk to him. Take him away from the temple and fucking talk to him. And more importantly, go tell Spartacus I will watch over Illythia tonight.”

He hesitates. “You won’t try to kill her or something,” he says, his voice softer and worried and Mira thinks of it, a little, and her hesitation must show on her face because Agron suddenly looks at her with concern, which is rich coming from someone who has been known to repeatedly stab already dead Romans. “Mira. I mean it. I hate her for what she has done to Spartacus too, but- we cannot solve this for him. It is his revenge or his mercy, whichever he chooses.”

“I hate that,” Mira says and she hates how tired her voice sounds and Agron laughs at her, not unkindly.

“We should form a club, then.”

“Stop stalling and go find Spartacus,” she tells him then and he laughs at her some more.

She sits down in front of Illythia. For a second, she wants to close her fingers around the Roman’s throat. _It is his revenge or his mercy, whichever he chooses_.

Spartacus finds her curled up against a wall on the opposite side of the room and Illythia unharmed.

She doesn’t tell him how close she was, but she suspects he knows that anyway.

“You are a goddess,” Agron tells her in the morning. He looks happy and there is a love bite blossoming on the side of her neck and Mira decides she is _not_ jealous.

Mira spares a quick glance at Saxa, who is currently busy kicking Nemetes’ ass all over the training yard and she sighs, pulling her knees to her chest.

“I don’t know about that, but I won’t object to sacrifices,” she says, almost amused and he rolls his eyes and throws a blanket at her.


	4. Laeta/Sibyl

They fight.

They win.

Mira is there when they take down Glaber and when they defeat Cossinius and Furius and she is even there when they capture Sinuessa en Valle. (She isn't sure how come she is there, sometimes she still wakes up from nightmares about the axe that Salvius threw at her that Spartacus somehow managed to knock away.)

Still, she stays with the rebels and teaches them to fight with a bow and honours Lucius with every shot arrow.

(She gets her chance to save Spartacus and not only him over and over with her bow and arrows and she thinks she shouldn’t feel this gratified knowing she is the one saving those strong, almost immortal men over and over but she has decided months ago she is allowed a little selfishness. She has given up Spartacus. She isn't willing to give up herself, too.)

As said, they conquer Sinuessa en Valle; the city falls almost ridiculously quickly, possibly because no one has ever thought the rebels might attempt to capture an entire city, which, as everyone believes, would have been ridiculous and impossible except that they have all forgotten that Spartacus has managed to take down an arena and that millions of other impossible things ever since.

Clearly, the Romans will never stop underestimating them. Mira cannot even bring herself to care.

Taking the city, _owning_ it, is, despite all her attempts to pretend otherwise, disturbingly weird.

Their small group of Spartacus’s closest take over a few villas and those are spacious and ridiculously _huge,_ and Mira forces herself not to feel lost. It’s almost scary, knowing that they will never just walk away, that they will continue fighting until only they or Rome remain. Spartacus has never truly left the arena. He merely exchanged sands for the entire world.

Despite the emptiness, the city also gives them rest, desperately needed.

And of course, they now have all the time of the world, which means Mira has now time to think and feel and notice and she wishes she didn’t, but just because she had the disturbing luck of falling first for Spartacus, who is both still in love with his wife and _maybe, unexpectedly in love with some else too_ (and Mira would know, given that somehow they managed to become friends) and then for Saxa who is somewhere between taken and unreachable (and why should Mira risk ruining their carefully crafted friendship), she still has eyes, which means a problem. Not technically, because she is sure Spartacus doesn’t care if his not-slaves-anymore get _friendly_ with someone, even if the _someone_ should be a Roman, but it means a problem, because Mira isn't sure she wants to step back into her role of mediator. (Saxa did not ask her about her opinion before starting a clearly complicated or maybe not at all complicated relationship with Gannicus, not that Mira minds or something.)

Still, if she isn't allowed to have what (or who) she wants, it would be selfish of her to prevent other people from having it when she _sees_ and she cannot pretend she doesn’t, anymore.

“She likes you,” Mira says quietly to the pale young not-a-slave anymore, what was her name, right, Sibyl. The girl blinks at her, confused.

“Apologies-“ she starts and Mira kind of wants to shudder, because she remembers herself being just like that and she hates being reminded of that everlasting fear.

“None needed,” she answers quickly and Sibyl blushes further.

“You are Spartacus’s friend,” the other woman says quietly and Mira would wince, she still does when someone calls her just that, except that Sibyl doesn’t say it ironically or with putting that horrible, implying emphasis on _friend_ and so she doesn’t wince and instead she nods.

“That I am,” she agrees.

“How can I help you then?”

Mira smiles at her, tired.

“She likes you,” she repeats and Sibyl rises an eyebrow. “What was her- right, Laeta. She likes you and from the way you’ve just looked at me and from the way you’ve been looking at her when you think she doesn’t see you, you like her too.”

She isn't sure what she expects, but Sibyl sighing softly isn't that.

“That’s not-“ the not-a-slave-anymore-and-someone-should-remind-her-that starts. “That’s not possible. Laeta is a noblewoman, I-“

“Laeta is definitely interested in you,” Mira says. “And whether or not is Laeta a noblewoman has ceased to matter weeks ago. She is into you, I can tell that. And if you don’t do something about it, I’m rather sure you will both be a lot more chaste than either of you cares to be.”

“Oh,” Sibyl says, making Mira smile a little. Gannicus did mention the girl wasn’t particularly eloquent.

“Yes.”

“But what if you are wrong?” Sibyl asks, her voice gentle and worried and Mira hates she asked, because isn't that what she has been asking herself for years?

“Then it will be a little awkward for a while. And then you’ll both move on,” she finds herself answering, surprising herself. “The real question is, what if I am right?”

Sibyl seems to contemplate that for a moment.

“Excuse me,” she says then.

-

Sibyl finds her sitting in the garden of as-of-now Spartacus’s villa. She looks a lot happier than the day before and there is a certain aura of happiness around her, one that Mira has seen on people before, but never on herself. Mira only hates her a little.

“You were right,” Sibyl tells her softly.

Mira laughs at that. “Yes. I am that quite often.”

“Thank you.”

She wasn’t expecting a hug, but she gets one anyway. Somehow, she cannot force herself to push Sibyl away just now.


	5. Gannicus/Spartacus

“Stupid,” is the first thing she tells Saxa after she leaves Spartacus half asleep in his bed, that she hasn’t been sharing with him ever since before that horrible fiasco with Illythia. “Stupid, idiotic, self-deprecating, _brilliant_ Thracians.”

“That was eloquent,” Saxa says, smirking as she bites into a strawberry. (Mira is pointedly _not_ staring at her reddened lips.) 

“You would be that eloquent, too, if you spent some time with him discussing _emotions_ ,” she comments, dryly and Saxa winks at her before offering her a strawberry.

“Do share,” the German says, intrigued and Mira would kind of like to know how the two of them became friends, except that she has also been in love with her long enough to not really question it.

“You can choose,” she says, half annoyed, half remorseful – she loves Spartacus, she always will, but she has made her peace with that, months ago. “Do you want to hear _again_ about the fact that he is desperately in love with his wife or do you want to hear about his undeniable affection towards a certain dimachaerus, who will _never love him back because he is most definitely_ not _into men and for a good reason that and even if he were, then present knowledge suggests he is into tall muscular men of dark skin, which Spartacus most definitely_ isn't _and_ -“ she is interrupted, rather impolitely, by Saxa's sudden intake of breath, followed by coughing as she breathes in some wine, when she realizes who Mira was talking about.

“Wait,” she says, in between the coughing. “Are you saying our mighty leader-“

“Is desperately in love with Gannicus? Yes. That’s precisely what I am saying, not that it matters.”

“Ehm,” Saxa says.

“I mean,” Mira continues, unfocused. “He is also feeling fucking guilty because apparently fantasizing about a person who is taken is wrong and breaking some sort of a moral code.” _That I clearly do not share_ , she thinks and doesn’t say, because really, Saxa doesn’t need to know _that_.

“Ehm,” Saxa says, again and at that Mira looks at her. The other woman looks like she is desperately trying not to laugh.

“What is so hilarious about it?” Mira asks her, arms crossed at her chest.

“First of all, the idea that _Gannicus_ is _not_ into men,” Saxa comments dryly. “Secondly, that I would be a problem.”

“Because you aren't together?” Mira asks, sarcastic and only a little bit hopeful.

Saxa rolls her eyes at that. “Of course we are… but it's hardly strictly monogamous, in fact it’s very open and certainly not set in stone or anything.” She smirks. “And I definitely wouldn’t protest if our mighty leader wanted to join us. However, you did not let me get to the “thirdly”.”

Mira stares at her.

“Which would be?”

Saxa leans closer to her, conspiring.

“Thirdly, I do not know if you have noticed that, but Gannicus definitely has a _thing_ for competent people. And whatever I might have to say about Spartacus, if he is something, then it’s _competent_. But of course, our mighty leader is _oh so honourable to the fault and deserves so much better_.”

She says the last part of the sentence with so much disgust and exasperation that it makes Mira smirk.

“Let me guess. Stupid, idiotic, self-deprecating Celts?” she says and Saxa laughs at her, bright and amused.

“Precisely, but I would use more swear words,” she answers. “More wine? I believe the night is going to be very long.”

“Is it?”

Saxa smiles at her.

“Of course. You cannot expect me to know the two of them are longing after each other and not do anything about it.”

_I’ve been longing after you for eighteen months and you haven’t done anything about it,_ Mira thinks, slightly bitter and then she shakes her head to clear her thoughts; she isn't being fair, Saxa doesn’t _know_ and Mira sure as hell isn't going to tell her.

“So you suggest we do what exactly?” she asks and she doesn’t have to pretend slightly sad amusement. Persuading Melitta and Oenomaus was easy, she knew they cared for each other deeply and back then neither of them was broken, Melitta was _Lucretia’s_ and Oenomaus was closer to Titus Batiatus than his own son was.

It’s different now, possibly more than Saxa can even begin to imagine, as she has never been in ludus and has no idea about what they have been subjected to, except for a highly censored version Gannicus has given her.

“Well,” the German drawls, her voice laced with joy. “The real question is which one of them is more likely to do the first step and I fear, slightly, the answer might be _neither_. But given that I’ve been hearing about Spartacus’s qualities for months, I suppose it can’t hurt if I mention it to our mighty leader. Meanwhile you can try to persuade our resident god of the arena that his emotions aren’t poison, I’ve heard you are quite good at doing just that.” Saxa smirks at her, making sure their eyes are meeting, and Mira knows what the other woman is going to say before Saxa even opens her mouth. “Besides, it can only do you well, spending some time with someone who can teach you to use _actual_ weapons.”

Mira considers throwing a strawberry at her but decides against. Instead she leans forward.

“Of course,” she says. “And this advice is given to me by a woman, who hasn’t touched _swords_ since the temple of Lucius.”

Saxa laughs.

“Hey,” she says, fake-insulted. “Daggers are perfectly acceptable weapon of choice.”

“Yes, for an assassin.”

“Fair,” Saxa tells her. “Then it is a question of priorities. I can sneak up to them and slit their throats before they notice. You might be able to kill them from distance, but when I attempt to kill them, they _die_. Which with your arrows doesn’t happen _always_.” She eats another strawberry, leaning closer to Mira, so close that their lips are almost, almost touching. “It is an excellent plan, Mira, and everyone wins.” she winks. “And if you have that many issues with swords, I am sure Gannicus will not mind being asked about hand to hand combat either.”

Mira laughs at her.

“I see how it is. I get that they are both _complicated_ -“ _and how could they not be, after being Champions of Quintus Batiatus_ , she thinks- “but still. It seems to me I will have to sacrifice a lot so that the two of them can go for it.”

Saxa smirks.

“Nah. It is just a training or three for you. I am the one who’ll have to suffer through Spartacus’s problems.”

“Sure, but it is your crazy plan and I have been suffering through them on a daily basis anyway.”

Saxa doesn’t even bother to argue with that.

-

In the next morning Mira forces herself to ignore the pounding in her head (and who thought trying to match Saxa’s drinking pace was a good idea?) and she goes find Gannicus, asking herself why she has to care about other people’s relationships, when unable to bring her own to existence, but the truth is, she does. She cares and she wants Spartacus to be happy and she isn't sure how or why is _this_ man the one who has the potential to make Spartacus so, but she isn't going to argue with that. (She still isn't sure why _Crixus_ is who makes Naevia happy, but he does, anyway.)

“How can I help you?” the dimachaerus asks her, his voice amused.

He is alone in their makeshift training yard, of course he is, it is ridiculously early, they are all healing and no sane person would be functioning at such a hour, which of course, explains a whole lot, not that she can judge, given that she and Spartacus wake up this early, too.

She curses Saxa a little in her mind and schools her face to not show how unimpressed she is. (It’s not really his fault or anything, she just really prefers bow and her lack of sword-training is a result of preferences and not situation – she is sure Spartacus would be more than happy to teach her, if she _wanted_ it.)

“For a start, I want lessons,” she says.

Gannicus smiles at her, genuine and amused, but not mean.

“ _You_ want lessons,” he repeats.

Mira shrugs. “Sure.”

“Why?”

_Because you have more issues than I can possibly count and, in case_ that _is not enough, also an unrelenting desire to die, which is approximately of the size of Gallia._

“Maybe I am curious.”

“About _swords_.”

“Yes. About swords, if you feel like it, but I suppose a hand to hand combat would be better for me. I mean, Spartacus would be jealous, probably, if I ask you to teach me sword-fighting, but he kind of likes to make me play a helpless house slave when we are dealing with the gaining of supplies and knowing how to break those bastards’ necks the next time any of them feels like touching me, is a pleasant idea. Definitely more pleasant than waiting till any of you manages to come to my rescue.”

He looks at her with sudden understanding, amusement disappearing from his face and right, she has heard about Varus and about Melitta. She also realizes she hasn’t even been making that up; it certainly _is_ a pleasant idea, not having to wait for rescue.

-

“You aren’t half bad,” Gannicus tells her some two hours later.

She is sweaty and every single of her muscles hurt but she also feels- well. Not victorious, not exactly, but content with herself. She kind of likes that feeling.

“Yes, you don’t suck at teaching either,” she answers, and he laughs at her. She ignores it in the name of swallowing some water. “And you don’t seem cowardly to me,” she adds. So much for subtleness.

“Excuse me?”

“I talk to Saxa, you know? And I know the way you look at Spartacus, by the way, I do know it all too well, given that at times I look at him in similar way. So, why don’t you tell him?”

He crosses his arms on his chest and Mira is suddenly very aware of the men she has heard he killed, of the men she has _seen_ him kill.

“That’s not your business,” he tells her, his voice cold and angry and she thinks she should definitely back off.

“I think it is,” she says anyway, because clearly he isn't the only one between them with a lack of respect for their well-being. “Because what you do not know, is, he looks at you that way too.”

Gannicus ignores her. “People die, Mira, when they look at me the way you suggest.”

“People die for plenty other reasons, too. And Spartacus isn't known as someone with healthy functional relationships either. One of you should do something about it.”

“Saxa-“

“Saxa is the last person who would mind you being happy and we both know it. If you are merely _appreciating the view_ as far as Spartacus is concerned, fine. But if you want more, I know for sure he won’t be the one complaining.”

Given that she expected him to slap her, she can’t help finding it a bit amusing that he is the one who looks as if he were slapped.

“I am an idiot,” he says eventually.

Mira smiles a little. “No, not really. It’s hardly our fault Quintus Batiatus was a part of our lives.” 

“Right.”

She smiles wider. “If you want to go talk to him right now, I am not going to be offended,” she tells him and he smiles at her at that, charming and friendly and she thinks she gets why Spartacus is into him.

“I do not intend to abandon you,” he tells her.

“You can and besides I certainly do have places to be.”

She watches him leaving (she does have places to be, she just really doesn’t think she has the strength to be moving just now).

“Gannicus!” she calls after him, surprising both of them. “Tomorrow the same time?”

He turns to look at her.

“One day I will make you try the swords,” he says, smirking.

She doesn’t even pretend to be annoyed.

-

She isn't sure what she expects when Saxa grabs her hand in the middle of the street to pull her with her the whole way to the villa Spartacus (and herself) currently resides in. She is pretty sure she wasn’t expecting Saxa stopping in front of what Mira knows is Spartacus’s bedroom and pressing a finger to her lips.

“We shouldn’t be watching,” Mira whispers, as they both stand there and watch Spartacus trail a series of kisses down Gannicus’s neck and collarbone. (She smirks, because clearly Spartacus does have a thing for neck kisses.)

“We absolutely shouldn’t,” Saxa agrees, her eyes fixed on both men.

“Saxa!”

The German presses her lips into a thin line. “Really?”

She does let Mira to maneuver her away from the scene and to the kitchen, though.

“It was certainly an experience,” Saxa tells her, winking and Mira rolls her eyes.

“I feel wrong for even remaining here now,” she answers, making Saxa laugh. “And you don’t seem to be too heartbroken.”

“I told you we weren’t set in stone,” Saxa says, still laughing. “If you don’t let me watch, can I at least invite you for wine and possibly inedible flatbread?”

Mira smirks.

“I’ll take the wine. And _I_ will cook.”

-

She doesn’t return to Spartacus’s villa until the following morning. It is only moderately awkward, she decides, and that initial awkwardness is absolutely worth it, she decides a while later, when she gets to witness not only a fairly passionate goodbye kiss, but also a mild horror in Spartacus’s eyes as he watches his former lover and his new one leave his house together.


	6. Mira/Saxa

“You need to smile more often,” Gannicus tells her when he sits down in front of her.

She looks up from her dinner.

“Thank you for your input,” she answers, unimpressed. “Not that I asked, but still.”

He smirks at that. Mira purposely ignores a love bite on his neck, but she does feel marginally better knowing it is Spartacus and not Saxa who is responsible for it.

“My point,” he says, “-is that you have buried yourself in work. I know, I know, we are at war, Marcus Crassus is trying to come up with a plan to get rid of us for good and everything else. But that doesn’t mean that you should – or that Spartacus expects you to – give every minute to work. There are things like sleep. And life.”

Mira sighs. “Maybe,” she agrees. “But we are still kind of busy, you know. And- well.” She looks up at him. “Can I tell you something?”

He moves closer to her, conspicuous. “Please do.”

“I am tired,” she says. “And I am trying to be happy for Spartacus, I really am. I mean, I know this was over years ago and I am happy for the two of you and everything, but-“

“You don’t want Spartacus, you want _something_ like what Spartacus and I have,” he says, his voice gentle enough and Mira sighs.

“Yes,” she agrees. “But it is irrelevant. I am fine with it, people like me don’t get the happy endings, I know.”

She isn't sure what she expects but then again, as surprising as it is, she is pretty sure if anyone understands what she means, it is going to be him.

“People like you?” he asks, knowingly.

“Are you really going to make me say that?”

He looks at her almost like he is sorry. “You think you don’t deserve to be happy because of what Batiatus made you? _After_ specifically telling _me_ I do deserve to be happy despite what Batiatus made _me_?”

“It is different,” she counters, not really sure why she is arguing at all.

“Is it? You and I, we’re not that different, Mira and you know that.”

They aren’t, no matter how much Mira wants to hate it and she rests her chin on her palms on the table and looks up at him, smiling tiredly.

“We both did things we’re not proud of,” Gannicus continues, his voice still gentle. “Why the hell should it mean you do not deserve happiness?”

“Isn't that how it works?” she counters. “You do horrible things, you don’t get nice ones?”

“If it did work like that on its own account, we wouldn’t have to be fighting this war,” he says and she laughs at that.

“Yes, alright, you win,” she says.

He flashes her a smile, the kind that probably made every woman and half of the men swoon whenever directed at them and that does absolutely nothing to her. “Of course I do.”

-

“I need to talk to you,” Spartacus tells her the next day. They are in the grainery, staring at the disturbingly meagre resources. “I mean. I need to talk to my generals and you. Away from the city. I do not want our supporters to panic, I really don’t, so we have to up with another plan, before things get worse.”

Mira sighs.

“Of course,” she says.

“An hour before sunset, next to Venus’s temple.”

“Romantic,” she comments dryly, and Spartacus looks at her, sharply, but the effect is ruined when he blushes.

“I wouldn’t know,” he says, pretending to sound indifferent and she laughs a little. It _is_ romantic and it _is_ sweet, she decides and he never was any of that with _her_ but it is nice to see he does have it him after all.

“I’ll be there,” she promises, and he smiles at her, thankful, before shifting his attention to their even smaller resources of wine and muttering something about Gannicus not talking to him for a week unless he sorts this out.

-

An hour before sunset she finds herself standing next to the temple of Venus, alone.

“What the-“ she starts and then she freezes because Saxa is sitting at the stairs leading into temple and that doesn’t make sense, does it, Saxa is many things but definitely not Spartacus’s general and why would she be here, when no one else is.

“Hello to you, too,” the German says, her voice light and amused.

“What are you doing here?” Mira manages to ask. “Also, where is everyone? And while I am at it, why the hell are _you_ here and Spartacus isn't when-“

She is successfully silenced when Saxa gets up from the stairs and moves closer to her, pressing her index finger against Mira’s lips.

“For one, you are awfully blind,” Saxa says, her voice calm and amused at the same time. “Not to mention, you are awfully difficult to talk to. And awfully difficult to talk to _alone_.” She smiles. “Don’t be too angry with Spartacus, I did not exactly give him a choice.”

“A choice,” Mira repeats slowly.

Saxa smiles at her.

“My, I’d say it’s lucky, you are pretty, but I happen to know you are so fucking more than just pretty. Still, do you think you might concentrate on the important parts of what I say?”

“You made Spartacus lie to me and send me here,” Mira says eventually. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been trying to flirt with you last six months and you aren’t responding in _any_ way. I mean, if you told me you weren’t interested, then I would drop it and we would be just fine, but you haven’t said _anything._ I kissed you at the temple and you kissed back, but then you went to behaving as if nothing ever happened. I ask you to come to my house with promise of wine and dinner in the evening and you say yes, but then treat me exactly the same way you treat Nasir or Naevia or Crixus for all I know.”

“You’ve been trying to flirt with me,” Mira says.

“Yes, I do not offer to cook for just anyone, you know.”

“You don’t know how to _cook_ ,” Mira comments automatically, the argument old and known and Saxa laughs.

“I know how to kiss,” she says. “If it is something you are interested in.”

“You are serious.”

Saxa moves even closer to her, enough that it would make Mira uncomfortable if it was anyone else.

“Somehow I am always serious when it concerns you. I mean in, Mira. I will not do anything you don’t want me to do but I am sick of pretending.”

“I am,” Mira blurts out, belatedly and Saxa raises an eyebrow at her.

“You are what?” she asks, innocent and amused and teasing.

“Shut up,” Mira murmurs and kisses her herself and Saxa laughs into the kiss, her left hand going to Mira’s side, her right hand cupping her face and tracing her cheekbone.

(It is fitting, that they first kiss in front of the temple of Venus, Mira will decide later, after all, she did play the goddess of love more than once over the years.

Later, she will also find out that even though Saxa doesn’t know how to cook, she certainly does know enough people capable of cooking, if Mira can judge from the meals spread out on a blanket behind the temple.

Even later, she will find Spartacus and they will both be smiling and they will continue fighting and they will do their best to survive, because they have people to live for, for a change.

Right now though, she concentrates on Saxa’s hands moving their way to her hair and on parting her lips for her, blissfully ignorant of the world.)


End file.
